


An Old Hand-Me-Down Jumper (Or Something)

by generaljanuary



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cigarettes, Established Relationship, Frottage, M/M, Marauders' Era, Post-Hogwarts, handjob, implied sex, mature language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-20 01:52:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/579991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/generaljanuary/pseuds/generaljanuary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Upon their return from a nine months long trip they took right after graduation, Sirius and Remus are unsettled by the drudgery of real life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Old Hand-Me-Down Jumper (Or Something)

**Author's Note:**

> I was greatly inspired by “Frankly, Mr. Shankly” by The Smiths so I had fun inserting references to the song in the fic (apart from the italicized excerpts, of course). Do tell me if you track them down.

**_April 1978_ **

**1.**   
_i want to leave, you will not miss me_

Remus shifted his shoulders, still testing the material of his new work robes. It looked like the collar and cuffs were going to be problematic. He discreetly rubbed his right wrist on his hip before returning his attention to his new boss. 

“So Mr. Lupin your desk is over there, you are to go through this stack of files and sort the incoming owl posts. Whenever you are done with a task just bring the papers to Mathilde’s desk over in the far right corner of the room.”

The sentences were jerky and sounded neither natural nor rehearsed. The balding wizard’s eyes refused to settle on anything. They roamed all over the unpleasantly lighted room, seemed to be nervously cataloguing every piece of furniture, every loose strand in the ugly brown carpet, as if reasserting his knowledge of every object and the place where it belonged. His eyes firmly refused to settle anywhere near Remus. Shaky hands offered him a piece of parchment and a quill as the man’s voice descended into a harsh   
whisper. 

“ Fill in this official ministry form for the new program of tax refunds for employers of…   
erh… your kind, before you do anything else, please.”

Remus offered his most pleasant smile, which didn’t waver when the man wildly snatched his hands away as the werewolf reached out for the form and quill. Remus’ gaze calmly followed them as they fell. The quill landed first, with a soft thump on the rug-covered floor while the piece of parchment slowly floated in a zigzagging downward motion. There was a pause between both men until it joined the quill at Remus' feet. 

“If there is anything you need, you can find me in my office, but we discourage unnecessary moving about during work hours. We also apply the traditional etiquette in the workplace, so p-p-please, refrain from… acting out. Please.”

The man turned and walked away stiffly, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief he dug out of his pocket. 

“Thank you, Mr. Shankly.” Remus said politely through his pleasant smile, eyes still fixed on the floor. 

He folded his long gangly body to pick up his quill and parchment and remained crouched an instant, contemplating his steady hands. He would have expected them to be shaking with the nervousness of his first day at his first job, or maybe even with suppressed rage at the treatment he had just received, but there was nothing but two steady scarred hands. He straightened himself up after a small while, hoping not to have appeared lunatic. The thought brought up a small bubble of hysteria and a tiny laughter escaped his still smiling lips as he walked slowly towards the desk he’d been appointed. 

*

Sirius sighed as he slipped into his muggle jeans. The sun streaming in from the window had warmed the hardwood floor and a half smile played on his lips as he pondered the simple pleasure of the sensation under his bare feet. Scratching his naked chest he made his way to the tiny sun-bathed kitchen of his and Remus’ new flat, passing by piles of boxes full of their belongings. 

The boxes were labelled in complete marauderish fashion. The one Sirius brushed by read “Padfoot’s F_A G _ L E ego”, next to the drawing of a half-heartedly waving hangman. 

“Why, most practical Mr. Moony, would we so cryptically mark a box full of fragile objects? Is it not the kind of information that should be readily available?” Had he inquired dramatically, only answered by a quirky smirk. 

Peering inside it with a grimace that spoke volume of his passion towards the unpacking arts, Sirius saw that the cardboard box contained his phials of hair product and a few mirrors. He laughed out of genuine surprise and amusement with an undertone of fondness for his clever Moony. His chuckle resounded in the sunny apartment as he tied his long sleep-tousled hair in a ponytail with a plain black hair band he found among his other vain possessions. 

He grabbed his wand and absent-mindedly charmed the dirty dishes to wash themselves before lighting a cigarette. He leaned back against the kitchen counter and looked at the fridge on which a dog-shaped magnet held in place a picture Lily had taken the previous week, on the day Remus and him had been back from their trip. 

Sirius, who was the much-hated, fortunate kind of bastard who hadn’t the need to crack open a single schoolbook in seven years to graduate with the best marks of his year, had been awarded the yearly ministerial grant for his academic achievement. 

“What! What achievement?” had complained Moony, who was very much the poor kind of bastard who had to study very hard to obtain grades that always sat just below Sirius’. 

Sirius had stubbornly plugged his index fingers in his ears to drown out Remus’ unconvincing complaints about practicality, savings, investments and whatnot and the both of them had hopped on the back of Sirius’ motorbike with their half-packed backpacks the morning after the graduation party. Lily, James’ arm around her waist and her hair blowing in the wind, had cupped her hands around her mouth to shout at them above the roar of the engine as they’d departed, sticking out their tongues and flipping them the finger in playful banter. 

“Come back for my wedding, you wankers!”

“If you don’t get bored of Prongs before!” Their laughter had almost been louder than the motorbike, drunk on this new, absolute freedom.

Summer, Fall, Winter : Amsterdam, Hanoi, Cairo. Remus, ever pragmatic, had thrown a world map in his satchel before their departure but they’d forgotten it in a small Provencal café-bakery merely two weeks into their trip. They found they didn’t really miss it. Their itinerary was based on whims and afterthoughts. Moony would wake up one morning wishing to taste genuine Indian Chai tea and Sirius would add that he’d like to stop by Beirut on the way and that was that. 

Nine moons in exotic forests and new and exciting sceneries. The wolf and dog had hunted strange creatures, pissed all over peculiar trees, swam in ocean water and licked the salty taste off of each other’s fur.   
They’d been everywhere they could think of, done everything they could think of, made love every time they could get it up—well no, they didn’t. They wouldn’t have gone very far if they had, but you get the drift. Oh, they’d fought a few times of course, but their making up was always fiercer than their fighting; their need for each other violent and vital. 

They had had romantic moments; whispering their love in each other’s ears under the rain, the stars, a few stained hostel ceilings. Shouting it at the top of their lungs in the middle of busy streets in countries where no one spoke English. 

They’d come back with terrifying facial hair, interesting tattoos and premature parenthesis around their smiles; nine months with nothing but each other in the face of the beauty of the world had left space for nothing but awe, smiles and laughter on their tanned features. 

If one wished to be sentimental about it, one would have called it a honeymoon. Prongs had been plenty sentimental about it, until Sirius had shoved a dirty sock he’d found at the bottom of his backpack into his mouth. 

Sirius sighed and bounced his arse off the counter with a jerky hip motion he’d seen a Turkish belly dancer perform. He shuffled to the window and wistfully peered down at the busy street below. 

**2.**   
_i’m a sickening wreck_

Remus had been right; the bloody cuffs were unbearable. He had to restrain himself from ripping them off and gnawing at his poor itchy wrists. Once again, the thought made him   
snort involuntarily and he looked up to see Mathilde, of the desk in the far right corner, look at him with alarm written plainly all over her freckled face. Perhaps she was starting to think that he had been sent to them by the Ministry’s program of social insertion for slightly demented wizards rather than for lycanthropes. Remus couldn’t bring himself to have an opinion on the matter. He began going through the stack of files in front of him but quickly realised that he had no idea what was exactly the nature of the work that was expected of him. He had the growing impression that no work was expected of him at all. He shrugged and decided to start by reading the files in question. That could only help. Reaching out for an envelope at random, Remus was distracted by a ray of sunshine streaking across his desk. He moved his fingers and watched the shadows he created play across pieces of parchments. 

He imagined Sirius on his motorbike, his guitar strapped to his back, his hair floating behind him in the sunlight as he rode through the city to find a pub that would pay him to play a few nights a week. If all failed, he was a decent barkeeper. Truth was that Healer’s training began only in September so the wild Black had decided to have a go at Rock Star in the meantime. It had, after all, been his first choice when he’d been confronted by a red-faced, huffing Professor McGonagall for his career orientation meeting. 

Remus turned his head to the only window in the stuffy room, his ears searching for the imaginary sound of a loud engine ripping through the street.  
They'd flown the mad thing all over Europe, Asia and the north of Africa, scaring all ridiculous kinds of birds. Sirius had even almost swallowed a frightened, feathery red thing once. Sirius and the bird had uttered similarly horrified squawks and the bike had started to pummel towards treetops as Sirius' brain momentarily decided to ditch the effort it was putting into driving to concentrate all its resources into finding out how such a thing had even happened. Remus' terrified, helmet-muffled screech had set Sirius' brain's priorities straight and kept them from crashing in a forest a little east from Sparta. 

Sirius usually forced his one helmet on Remus, coming up with some completely made up statistics about passengers being more likely to be beheaded in motorcycle crashes. When Remus had pointed out that wearing a helmet would not help much in preventing his head from being detached altogether from his body, Sirius had insisted that he at least wanted an unscathed pretty Moony head to mourn and the argument had been won by laughter, their most effective weapon. 

Remus turned his attention back onto the files scattered about on his desk and tried to settle into work. Whatever work was.   
After a few hours, he found that if he simply shuffled the papers about, put them in a neat pile and brought them over to Mathilde, she would, without a word, go through them and re-arrange them in what Remus assumed to be the correct order. Upon his fourth trip to the far right corner of the room, he politely asked her to explain what she was doing so that he could do it himself and save her the trouble. She cut him off with a shaking raised hand. Staring intently at the papers in front of her, she begged him to go back to his desk and behave appropriately. 

“Of course.” he whispered, scratching his wrist.

*

With the door to their flat wide open, Sirius was crouched down in front of the door mat that welcomed visitors outside of their apartment. Waving his wand, he was trying to charm it so it would read “Welcome to Padfoot and Moony’s most decadent den of disastrous disorder”, because surely it would piss off the landlord and make the other tenants raise an eyebrow or two, but mostly because it would make his Moony smile at least a little after what would have been, without a doubt, the longest and most boring day ever. 

“A desk job? Honestly? That is so… so… un-marauderish!” Sirius had teasingly whined, rubbing his stubbly cheek on sensitive Moony shoulder skin- just to raise a reaction out of him- during a lazy rainy day, stuck in a tent somewhere near the German border of Luxemburg. “Entschuldigung, mein Herr Moony der Bücherwurm.” The reaction had been a pillow thrown in the aforementioned stubbly face. 

The door was a sure bet for two very simple reasons. Firstly, a third-floor muggle apartment wasn’t very likely to be equipped with a floo-enabled fireplace. Secondly (as well as ridiculously, in Sirius’ mind), Remus had never applied for his Apparition licence, claiming that the concept downright terrified him- much to his fellow marauders’ hysterical amusement. Although this mode of transportation always made him feel nauseous- sometimes to the point where he would actually be sick- he sometimes let himself be convinced to be Apparated as a side-along, but always with people he deeply trusted and never if they were in any sort of inebriated state, 

Sirius had stopped harassing him about it a long time ago. The bottom line of the argument had been that a Gryffindor afraid of Apparition was just as queer as a Black shagging a werewolf. They had toppled onto each other with the hilarity of the statement. Yes, most arguments _did_ end in laughter. Or intense shagging. Or in this case, both. 

Once he was satisfied with his newly alliterating door mat, Sirius blew on the tip of his wand and slid it into his back pocket, like he’d seen a guy wearing a funny hat do with a pistol thingy, in a silly American muggle movie. In the summer between their sixth and seventh year, Lily had dragged the bunch of them to the cinema more than once, arguing that she would shove culture down their throats if she had to. Sirius didn’t know about culture, but the pop corn had went down just fine and he’d grabbed the occasion to murmur in Remus’ ear what else he’d like to have shoved down his throat. Seeing Moony spit Coke through his nose was just a bonus. 

The sound of a car honking outside startled him out of his reminiscence. Slowly, shoulders tensed, he closed the door and turned to cross the small living room to the kitchen, where the window looked out on the busy street below. 

Suddenly, he found himself senselessly glad that Remus had declined his offer to pick him up with the bike after work. 

Shaking the disturbing notion away, Sirius walked back to the living room, grabbing a clean ashtray from the stack of drying dishes he’d earlier charmed to wash themselves, on the way. He was hoping a good old fag would help unclench his suddenly quivering stomach muscles. 

**3.**   
_i want to live and i want to love,  
i want to catch something that i might be ashamed of_

When Remus got home, he found Sirius sitting on the couch, a half-full ashtray -that hideous orange thing Lily’d given them- on his lap and an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. 

Upon seeing Remus, Padfoot couldn’t help the smile that came over his face and the cigarette tilted upwards. 

“Hey, Moony. How was your day?”

His gaze never leaving Sirius, Remus closed the door behind and shuffled out of his shoes. 

“It was ok. “ He said neutrally as he sat next to his lover. “How was yours?”

“It was ok.”

Both men remained silent, staring straight ahead for a moment before Remus slowly let himself slide sideways until his head rested on Sirius’s shoulder. 

“I quit my job.”

“I think I’m afraid to go outside.”

Inconspicuously, their gaze sought one another without either of them moving, identical shy, sheepish grins breaking on their faces. Their laughter was almost silent at first, quiet puffs of breath as their shoulders shook simultaneously, and grew in volume and mirth until the living room was filled with it, until they were two men embracing tightly on a beaten-down sofa, laughing at a truth they didn’t really want to face.

“Ew! Ew! Ashtray! Ashtray!” Sirius wheezed out, clinging to his cigarette by a corner of his smile. 

Remus, still laughing, dislodged the offending piece of orange clay from in between Sirius and the couch and placed it on the floor. He did a quick ‘Scourgify’ to clean the ashes that had spilled, tossed his wand next to the ashtray and positioned himself so that he was laying on top of Sirius. He propped himself up on his elbow so he could look at his lover’s face while his own was encased in Sirius’ hands. The long elegant fingers lodged themselves into his light brown hair thus keeping it out of his face. When he closed his eyes, Remus could feel his thoughts slowing down, his head didn’t feel the need to be abuzz when held in such a safe place and in such a caring way. He exhaled a long sigh and his breath fanned on Padfoot’s forehead, stirring the strands of hair there that had come loose from his ponytail. Sirius was just beginning to think that he was glad for the useless fag in his mouth that kept him from having to talk, when Remus opened his eyes and caught the tip of it between his front teeth, before spitting it over the backrest of the couch, eliciting lazy chuckles from both of them. 

“So, this job of yours was just as shitty as I warned you it’d be?” 

“Twat!” Remus huffed, swatting him half-heartedly on his chest. His face quickly turned sombre. “Oh Padfoot, it was just so weird. I felt like I did not belong there at all. Not because I wasn’t qualified for the job- which consisted of doing nothing at all while pretending to be busy, before you ask- and not because of the werewolf thing- though Merlin knows they were doing their best so that I’d be reminded of it every half hour or so-” Sirius growled softly “Yeah, I know… but it was deeper than that. I couldn’t bring myself to care about any of it. I felt like I was floating above my own shoulder, witnessing a rehearsed fiasco for which I had no interest whatsoever.”

Sirius was almost subconsciously tracing soothing patterns with his fingers over Remus’ scalp enjoying the way his lover bent his neck to press back into his softly moving digits. 

“I kind of know what you mean. I’ve been sort of floaty all day, as well. Going in circles around the flat, finding excuses not to go out looking for gigs.”

“Does that mean you actually unpacked?” Remus enquired disbelievingly. 

“Oh, I sure did. Put loads of effort into it, too.”

“Really? Wow, Padfoot, you really didn’t want to go outside. What did you unpack?”

“Well… this one hair band that I tied my hair with.”

Remus swatted him again, this time harder.

“Oh! You arse. You vain, vain arse. I should have known better!” He shook his head in amusement for a few seconds and then let it head fall on Sirius’ chest with another sigh. “What a bloody useless pair of ponces we make.” He added in a fond whisper. 

“Well that is quite insulting, mein Herr Moony. I did some very productive things today.” Sirius huffed in a joking self-important tone. 

Remus smirked and wriggled- not innocently- to crawl up so that they’d be face to face.

“Oh yeah? And what would those be.” He asked breathily as Sirius swallowed audibly, not unaffected by the smaller man’s teasing. 

“I washed the dishes.” He answered before letting out a groan as Remus playfully licked along his jaw and breathed into his ear. 

“Oh yeah?” He murmured there, moving his hips in a more purposeful motion. 

“Unh-unh” Sirius agreed, rocking hips, trying to find friction to appease his languidly growing erection. “I am also quite disappointed that you took no notice of that amazing charm work I did on our door mat, just to make you smile so you’d unwind after a long day at work.”

“I think you know other ways to help me unwind.” Remus gave him a cocky look before bending down again to lick the valley between his lover’s lower lip and chin with the very tip of his tongue.

This time it was Sirius’ turn to utter a languorous “Oh yeah?” as he latched his lips unto the long pale neck that was blatantly offered to him. 

Remus moaned quietly into his lover’s black hair as he felt one strong hand guiding his hips, their leisurely rhythm picking up speed as the need for contact became urgent between them.

“I won’t last long.” he panted “All that sun today, I kept thinking about that one time in Morocco. Sun-bathing naked like that, unaware that I was watching you. You looked like a freaking golden god who’d gotten lost or something. So decadent, my Padfoot.” 

He was making sounds deep in his throat, one hand moving incessantly against Sirius’ naked, tanned chest, the mere idea that Sirius hadn’t put on a shirt all day long making him dizzy. 

“Then let’s get you out of these new work robes of yours before we ruin them, shall we?” Padfoot muttered heavily, his breath making Remus shiver as it blew over the spot Sirius had thoroughly coated with saliva. 

“Oh, no. Please, let’s ruin them so that I have an excuse to throw the damn thing away. I’ve been itching to rip them to shreds all day long. Please.”

“Yum.” Sirius answered, conjuring up the image of his Moony actually tearing his own clothes off. “Mind if I get on top, then? I’d very much like to leave a Moony shape into that horrible sofa. Might improve it.”

Remus burst into laughter. 

“Merlin, Padfoot, you are such a mood breaker, someti-” he was abruptly cut off as Sirius manoeuvred them so he was now on top and grinding his hardness into Remus’ own painful erection more roughly than before, until involuntary, tiny, needy, keening sounds poured out of Remus’ mouth.

“Oh yeah? Am I, now?” Sirius grunted through short breaths, his excitement increasing fast as he felt Moony buck up against him.

He could feel himself getting close and when he started hearing helpless little, escalating, breathy ‘Oh! Oh!’s in his ear he grabbed Remus’ arse with both hands, efficiently crushing their groins together, and gyrated his hips potently a few more times. Sirius felt his lover spasm once under him and then go still and quiet; his eyes closed and his mouth open but no sound coming out at all for a while, before he let out a final half-strangled moan. 

“Mmh. My Moony, so beautiful when I make you sing.” He crooned, his waist still working circling motions. 

“You haven’t…?” Remus asked when he could catch his breath. 

“Nuh-huh.”

“Then let me.” He grinned wickedly, climbing on top of Sirius. “So you really wore nothing but those jeans all day, huh?” He asked, pressing his palm on his lover’s hardness through the thick fabric. 

Sirius quickly licked his lips, inhaling sharply. 

“A-and that one hair band, yeah.” He panted. 

Remus scratched the length of Sirius’ zipper with the nail of his index finger, without any indication that he was about to open it, and a shudder coursed trough the dark-haired man.

“Ah! Don’t tease. I’m close.” He groaned when Remus unbuttoned his jeans and actually undid the fly. “You think I haven’t been thinking about you all day long. All fidgety in that stiff new outfit. Is it ruined? Is it completely ruined, now?”

“Yeah, completely, thoroughly ruined.” He murmured languidly, wrapping his pale finger around Sirius’ slick, painful erection. “All because of you, too.” That afterthought was rewarded with a heady groan.

It only took a few strokes for Sirius to reach climax with a long mewling moan. Remus wiped his hand on the hem of his robes and said with a lazy chuckle:

“Truly, completely, thoroughly ruined, now, I guess.” 

While he regained his breath, Sirius reached behind his back to grab his wand which had been dislodged from his back pocket and gotten stuck between the cushions of the couch. 

“Accio cigarette.”

It flew from where it had landed earlier when Remus had unceremoniously discarded it and Sirius caught it between his lips, butt end sticking out. Both men smiled and Remus bent his neck to capture the cigarette between his own lips, waiting for Sirius to light it for him. He took a long first drag and then handed it to Sirius, who eagerly inhaled as his lover laid back down on his chest.

“So, did you leave with a bang? Call your boss a flatulent pain in the arse?” He said and felt Moony’s lips curve into a smile somewhere near his right nipple. 

“Something among those lines...”

Suddenly, they heard two loud ‘Crack!’s coming from just outside their door. 

“Well that’s a charming example of a good use of the letter D in alliteration…” came Lily’s muffled, amused voice. 

“Padfoot,” Remus said in a admonishing tone “did you charm the door mat so it says ‘Welcome to Padfoot and Moony’s disastrous den of dry-humping decadence’ ”

There was a knock at the door and the two men disentangled themselves.

“Something among those lines…”

Remus sent him a horrified look and Sirius sniggered. 

“Scourgify.” he waved his wand at the both of them to clean the half-dried mess they’d made on themselves earlier before calling: “Come in!”

“Padfoot! My robes, you un-ruined them!” Remus complained.

“Well, I guess we’ll have to ruin them again, then” He whispered with a wink. “Hey guys! What’s up?” He said louder for Lily and James. 

“We needed to get out of all those last minute wedding preparations so we thought we’d head out for a few pints.” Lily smiled, rolling her eyes. 

“Yeah, so we decided to come here and kick your lunatic, hermit arses so you’d come with us. I’m sorry to say that you don’t have a choice, mates, we almost haven’t seen your ugly mugs since you’ve been back from the honeymoon.”

They protested simultaneously:  
“Ugly mugs” Sirius objected loudly.  
“Honeymoon!” Remus snorted dismissively. 

James raised his hands to fend off further complaints while Lily chuckled softly. 

“So, you guys coming?”

Remus stood up slowly, grabbing his wand from the floor and minding his steps so he wouldn’t set foot on the ashtray. 

“Sure. You two go ahead, I haven’t had a chance to grab a shower since I came back from work, we’ll join you in a few.”

“Oh! That’s right Remus, you have to tell us all about your new job!” Lily exclaimed with enthusiasm. 

“I’m afraid there’s not much to tell, actually…” He lowered his gaze. He hadn’t been thinking about consequences when he told his boss he wanted nothing to do with his soul-corroding business. 

Before anyone could ask any question, Sirius picked up the ashtray, stubbed out his cigarette and stood up. He put himself between Remus and James and Lily, smiling widely. 

“Remus decided he’d rather go down in musical history with me.” He said, furtively pointing at his guitar, which was propped up against the wall next to the door. 

“Oh!” James’ face didn’t have to time settle into wondering amusement as he seemed to be suddenly reminded of something. “Speaking of which, Peter – who, by the by, is currently putting his life on the line to save us the best table in the pub- knows a guy who knows the guy who was supposed to play at the pub tonight and guess what? He’s sick, so he won’t be coming in. You might want to bring that along, this might be your lucky break, Padfoot.”

Sirius’ eyes widened slightly and if James didn’t know better, he’d say that he saw uneasiness wavering in them for a second but then it was gone and Sirius was turning towards Remus, rubbing his hands together. 

“Ha! Hear that, Moony! I’m going to be famous!” He said in pompous voice, causing everyone else to snort. 

“Famously moronic, that is.” Prongs muttered under his breath.

“We’ll go join Peter before he loses a limb trying to save us seats. Be quick, your beers will be getting warm and flat waiting for you.” Lily said before grabbing her fiancé’s hand. 

“See you.” They said in unison and ‘Crack!’ the couple was gone. 

**4.**   
_i’ve got the 21st century breathing down my neck_

Sirius’ playful expression crumpled into something tired and anxious and he came to rest his forehead on Remus’ shoulder with a sigh. Remus’ hand came up to scratch him behind his ear, a touch he knew the animagus found pleasant both as a canine and a human. 

“Hey. It’s okay. We’re okay. It’s just a bout of momentary blues. After nine months of adventure, I guess real life feels a bit like an old hand-me-down jumper. Or something. Not that you’d know what an old hand-me-down jumper feels like, but…” Remus shrugged the one shoulder that didn’t have an unhappy Padfoot head on it. “We’ll both come to our senses…hopefully before it ruins our lives.” He let out a shaky breath. 

Sirius, who knew from unpleasant past experiences that Remus was sometimes prey to anxiety attacks, straightened up and put a warm hand on his Moony’s neck in a comforting gesture. 

“Do you wish we’d never left?” He asked, seeking his lover’s eyes. 

“No. I wish we’d never had to come back.” Part frightened, part self-derisive, the whisper did not reassure Sirius. 

There was a loud ‘Crack!’ and both men bolted apart to face James who was looking at them with an apologetic glance. 

“Hey guys. Just came back to tell you that if you were planning on standing us up tonight, don’t. I have some very serious stuff to discuss with you. Message from Dumbledore. He’s gathering people. He needs all of us. We didn’t feel like bursting your happy bubble immediately after you returned, but now we have to fill you in on what’s been going on while you’ve been gone.” He paused as he took in their already sombre expressions and forced a half-grin. “Beer just kind of makes it easier.” He joked as he stepped closer to them. “Hey. I’m not so blind that I didn’t notice the two of you acting like a couple of kicked puppies since you’ve been back.” James put his hands on his friends’ shoulders, forcefully bringing them closer to one another. “Pete and I, we’re there for you. For whatever is going on now and whatever is going to happen next. Marauders forever.” He finally pledged. 

Remus groaned quietly as Sirius beamed and went on:

“Elicitors of wonder!”

“Through blunders… and laughter?” Remus shrugged. 

They all turned towards the empty space where Peter would usually stand and add in closure:

“Yadda yadda yadder!” 

The Marauder’s Pledge was something James had created as a sort of pep talk before pranks. It was mostly malleable, consisting of as many rhyming sentences they could come up with at the specific time of the ritual. Whereas the other boys had always found great fun in the practice, Remus had always been appalled that his fellow pranksters fancied themselves poets for delivering such bloddy awful lines. 

“Well, better get back to Wormtail and the soon-to-be ball and chain before they start thinking I’ve shacked up with you two and decide to elope together. You guys freshen up and join us, understood?” 

James offered them one last encouraging smile and then was gone with a ‘Crack!’.

“That plonker’s not as daft as he looks.” Sirius declared, turning to face his lover.The right corner of his lips tucked into an uncertain grin. 

“I don't know about that, but I sure as hell hope you're up for that gig.”

Sirius raised a questioning eyebrow.

“Well now that I've retired from my career as a 'stuffy quill-pusher', as you so aptly put it, I thought it would be worth a shot for me to recycle my talents and launch my brand new freelance journalist career by covering new music sensation Sirius Black's debut gig. Unless when you said 'go down in musical history with me', you meant me flailing about with a tambourine behind you.” Only half-serious about this sudden 'new career', Remus placed his hand on Sirius' cheek and whispered, sincere now: “We're in this together, we'll get through this together, Padfoot.”

Sirius folded the smaller man in a careful embrace and spoke in a low soothing voice.

“Yeah. Yeah, that sounds nice.” he paused and rocked his lover once, twice. “You go grab that shower now while I get the bike out. Wouldn't want Prongs to spit in our warm, flat beers.”

“Actually, Padfoot, let's Apparate.”

Surprised, Sirius loosened his hold on Remus' body to stare at him. 

“Really? Are you sure?”

“As long as you promise not to let go.” 

Sirius kissed Remus' smile playfully.

“Well, now that we have more time on our hands, why don't I join you in the shower to demonstrate just how tight I can hold on to you, huh?”


End file.
